Page 55 of Romance Languages

He turned back and gave me a wink.

“That’ll be seventy-six even.”

“Seventy-six dollars?” Seamus asked.

The cashier nodded yes.

“Cool.” Seamus’s hand shook slightly as he pulled out his wallet. “It’s quality wine. The good stuff.”

Fuck. I should’ve asked if he had a budget he wanted to stick to. I’d got so wrapped up in picking the best bottle.

“We can go fifty-fifty,” I said.

“Nah, I’m good. I got it.” He shoved his credit card into the reader. Over his shoulder, I spotted a red X on the machine.

“It says insufficient funds,” the cashier said.

“How about that?” Seamus stared down at his wallet, searching for another card as red traveled up his neck and ears.

I felt like an asshole. Why couldn’t I just let him pick out what he wanted?

I went to put my card in the reader. Seamus pushed it away.

“What are you doing?”

“I, uh…wanted to help.”

“I got it, Jules. I took out the wrong card by accident. As we say in my classroom, no problemo!” Seamus whipped out a new card from the depths of his wallet.

I held my breath until it went through.

“Thanks for the wine help. I’ll let you know how the party goes.” He spun on his heel and made a break for the front door.

16

SEAMUS

It was only Tuesday, and the week was already a shitstorm. I had one student break down crying to me because she got a D on the latest test, which made me feel like an asshole. I shot two videos for my account, and accidentally deleted one of them. But what hit me most of all was that I’d been avoiding Julian.

What had happened at In Good Spirits was more embarrassing than the time a kid pantsed me on the playground in fourth grade. My deepest, darkest secret was flung out in the open, in front of a good friend, a friend who I’d been having more-than-friendly thoughts about.

I didn’t want Julian asking questions. I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want him to see my mess.

When my last marker ran out of ink that afternoon though, I had no choice but to slink over to his room to borrow a fresh one in between classes. Because of course I didn’t have my shit together to have extras on hand.

“Hey, do you have an extra marker? I don’t have time to run to the supply closet.” I held up the dud one.

“As they say in your language, no problemo.” Julian handed over a green marker. He mustered a half-smile. It seemed as if the week had been a little shitbag to him, too.

“Thanks. How’s things?”

“Not the best.” Julian stepped closer so the students filtering into his class couldn’t hear us. “The tent rental company for my grandparents’ party called and said they had to cancel. One of their tents was damaged. And the weather forecast has a forty percent chance of rain. Then, after health class this morning, I had a student ask me if having anal sex hurt. He was being genuine. I had to make up an answer which I hoped was accurate. Fortunately, my friends are big oversharers, but I hated having to lie to him.”

“I’m sorry, bud.” I gave his shoulder a quick rub. I was becoming addicted to touching him, like I had in the wine store. It was no bueno.

“It’ll be fine. I called around to a few other tent rental companies. My mom was too stressed about the situation to help.” He rolled his eyes. “But yeah, long week so far.”

“What did you tell your student about the other thing?”

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